


Shared nightmares

by horizontalhorizon



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:57:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horizontalhorizon/pseuds/horizontalhorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is originated by ibijau's - found on tumblr - amazing story based on a Dwarven child discovering Smaug.<br/>Original writing with all its chapters is called 'You'll be in my heart'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shared nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You'll be in my heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357555) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> My personal work inspired by the great writing of the story of Smaug adopting a Dwarven child after the attack on Erebor. For more context on their relationship and such, I highly suggest you read it first.

He had a nightmare.

He heard the child’s voice in the watery distance. Everything was dark and fuzzy, but the child’s voice brought him some solace.  
“I can’t wait to show off my spectacular adad to everyone! They’ll be so terrified! They’ll worship you,” it said. “I love you, I love you. I love you Smaug, I love you.”  
He could see again, standing in the ruins of the dwarven city he decimated. In his mouth, he could taste the dwarf child. It was moving, supposedly in frantics and fear.  
He liked it. He liked hearing him shouting, hitting the roof of his mouth in terror. But again, the child’s voice resonated like a spirit in the background.  
“I don’t want a bath, I don’t care if I’m yucky. Please! I love your gold, can’t we share? Can’t I have some?”  
He bit down on the child, extinguishing its life forever. He chewed gleefully.  
“Adad! Can we play? I’ll be the tempest in the water! By the lake! Hurry up, please?”  
Regret. Horror. His heart raced, and the taste in his mouth that he loved and felt before thousands of times was rancid. His child. He had killed it.  
Its voice continued in the air, as if its death had not occurred. Its blood dribbled from his mighty chin.  
“You’re so silly! The cakes, they’re so good! How could you not love them?”  
Smaug spit out the child’s dismantled body onto the ground. Somehow its face was entirely intact.  
Its mouth moved as he heard its voice. “I love you.”

Startled, he awoke, blinking distilled wetness from his eyes. His loud breathing roused the child awake, rubbing its eyes. “Hm?” it muttered.  
Smaug couldn’t believe it. What a nightmare. What a horrific time. And yet he felt so conflicted. How could he be so severely disturbed? He knew by now his passion for the child was unnatural. He felt as if he didn’t know himself, and he didn’t care. But how could this extreme panic set in? These feelings were equal to as if...Smaug’s life was in danger. He could simply not understand these emotions. He was beside himself. He was so... upset. And he couldn’t understand it.  
“Someday this child will die,” he thought to himself. “I...will not kill him.” He attempted to reason with himself.  
“Smaug?” the child muttered.  
He brought his head to the direction of the dwarf, his powerful eyes illuminating him.  
“A’ you okay?” it inquired, yawning and rubbing its eye.  
The mighty dragon waited a moment before responding. “A...nightmare,” he concluded.  
“Hm,” it responded meekly.  
Smaug had just wanted to go back to sleep, and rested his head back down, looking away from the child. Suddenly, he felt it touching the side of his face. He moved his eyes to look at it inquisitively.  
“I have nightmares too,” it said.  
Smaug slightly raised his head at this. “You do?” He tried to mask his concern.  
“Yeah. Like, drowning in the water, or falling really high down a cliff, or…” the child trailed and rubbed its arm.  
“Or-?” Smaug prodded.  
“Uh, just getting hurt and such. It happens a lot. Those nightmares - I mean.”  
“Why not tell me this before?” the dragon asked.  
“Eh, they’re just dreams. My mama said they’re not real, just your brain tricking you so you’re more careful. Like, a lot of booby traps just in case.”  
“I doubt they hold such purpose,” he remarked. “Dreams are an unstable reality in the mind. They’re not real, but they could be.”  
The child stared down and fiddled with its hands.  
“What was your nightmare about?” it asked, looking back at Smaug.  
The great dragon harrumphed mightily, and had to restrain himself from a groan. He wasn’t going to tell the dwarf how it dreamt of killing it with its horrendous teeth. He contemplated on a good lie, which became astoundingly difficult for no real reason even though he’s done it before.  
The child looked back sorrowfully. “You don’t--”  
“I had a dream that you had fallen.” He was staring straight ahead. “You had hurt your leg and there was blood.”  
“Oh,” the child remarked. “I’ve hurted my leg like that before. It’s okay if there’s a bit of blood, it’s common. Like when I scrape my knees on the rocks. And-and I’ve had nightmares where you were hurt!”  
Smaug couldn’t stop himself from a cacophonous, hearty laugh that startled the child out of its skin. “Ah hah!” he breathed, shaking his head. He looked at the child’s astounded expression.  
“I can never be hurt. Not such as you mortals, anyway.” He still held a large grin.  
“But what if you fall from the sky!” The child exclaimed, then stood up and pointed upwards for extra emphasis.  
“I wouldn’t fall. And if I were to, it would not hurt,” Smaug said, extremely amused.  
“Wow,” said the child, sitting next to Smaug’s snout and laying a hand on it. “You’re super tough.”  
“I expected that would’ve been given information,” he said.  
“It is,” the dwarfling agreed. “But falling from the sky? That’s in-red-abel.”  
“‘In-red-abel’?” he inquired.  
“Yeah. That’s when it’s very nice and amazing!” the child said, expanding its arms.  
“‘Incredible’, I think is what you mean to say.”  
“Yeah! That’s it! That’s what you are.” The child rested its head against Smaug’s snout. It was so large, however, it was like laying against a cushy wall.  
“Rest,” Smaug whispered.  
And they did.

 

Days later, Smaug had another dream. The landscape was blurred and indistinguishable. He imagined it was probably in Erebor, but the burning edges in his vision and the smell of wood said otherwise. Emerging from the distance, a wispy child asserted itself in front of Smaug, who seemed completely nonplussed.  
“What is existence?” it inquired.  
“Surviving. Consuming. Possessions, objects, their purpose,” Smaug replied, bored.  
“That’s wrong,” the dwarf replied.  
This made him upset. “Oh, is that right? Is existence about love and family and city-towns?”  
“Existence is not knowing. Existence is going forward, doing what’s next, whether it's obvious or convoluted.”  
“I’ve done this my whole life,” Smaug said determinedly. “I wouldn’t care because it’s not necessary. I’ve never desired it, it held no purpose. Now, it’s still unnecessary yet it’s there. That dwarfling! Why? Why do I let it live? Why do I command my life to its survival?”  
The ghost child looked at Smaug.  
“Why do I care?” he begged.  
“That,” it responded, “is existence.”


End file.
